The silence of unrequited love
by FiveMetersOfPrussia
Summary: In which Jack wants to tell Roger just how much he truly loves him. Jack/Roger oneshot.


The silence of unrequited love

Summary: In which Jack tries to show Roger how much he truly does love him.

Warnings: Angst, cursing (probably), anger, past violence, and suggestive themes? Not really much fluff, if any.

A/N: It's time to get serious, guys.

Pairing(s): Jack/Roger

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Flies.

It was pouring buckets of rain, as it had been for the past few days, and the large house was silent as the grave. The belongings within it were neat and orderly, and there wasn't a spec of dust or patch of dirt to be seen. Sometimes Jack was convinced that the house was so unnaturally spotless that he could almost see his reflection in the tiles of the floor. However, it was not the cleanliness or the ever present silence that bothered Jack, who was perched on a recliner near one of the many windows. Nor was it the fact that there was no amount of noise that could be made to dissipate the silence. It was simply the fact that it had been exactly three days since he had seen Roger.

Not that this was entirely unusual, since Roger wasn't in any way inclined to spend any of his time with Jack, but he would usually make some attempt at civility at some point in the day. Jack sighed heavily and frowned deeply at the dregs of his coffee, gazing at them meaningfully as if they would hold an answer. He had to be _logical_ about this. He knew that Roger was in the house _somewhere_… He never left. Not for work, since he did it from home, or shopping, which was Jack's chore. He didn't leave for anyone, either. Not the doctor, or his family… Especially not for Jack.

Jack tried to shake the thought from his head as he got up and went to the kitchen, setting the cup in the sink carefully. Normally there would have been minor disturbances in the kitchen, a tea box left out, a cupboard just barely open… The occasional cup left on the counter. Just simple signs left behind to show that Roger was still there. Today there was nothing, everything was put away, and the house was more quiet than ever. It was with a morbid curiosity that Jack left the kitchen and headed down the hallway, decidedly worried. It wasn't often that Jack found himself walking towards Roger's room, and Roger preferred it that way, though Jack wished he didn't.

As always, the hall was dark and void of anything, and Jack couldn't help the shiver that ran down his spine. He quickly found himself in front of the door and hesitated for a moment, sighing heavily, before letting his knuckles rap against the wood of the door. He was met with a long silence at first, but if he strained his ears he could just barely make out the almost silent footsteps as they moved unhurriedly towards the door. The hall was flooded with the pale light that shone through the windows as Roger opened the door, gazing at Jack stoically. It had been many years since Roger had said a word to Jack and it didn't look as if that was going to change any time soon.

"Just wanted to come and check on you," Jack supplied, offering an answer to the unasked question. "I hadn't seen you in a few days… I was worried you'd run off." Jack said, smiling halfheartedly. Roger frowned and turned away, leaving the door open for Jack, and simply went back to tending the flowers that perched on his desk. It was the only thing in the room that held any color, save for an old, beaten up red book with scuffed edges and cracked binding. Within the book there were no words upon the pages, no pictures… Nothing but a dried and pressed flower that held more significance for Roger than the world over.

Roger's room was rather empty, containing only a bed with dark linens, and a desk, off white in color. Upon the desk was an ever present pot of flowers, pale white in color. They were the only evident thing in the house that seemed to make Roger happy, and Jack was more than willing to let them stay. He would have put them in every room in the house, all over the gardens and in the front yard if Roger would let him. All Jack wanted was an end to the silence, to the ever growing distance and loneliness. He simply wanted to tell Roger how much he loved him without infuriating him. Jack knew that would never happen, though; he knew that Roger would _never_ forgive him.

Jack was quiet as he walked into the room, glancing at the roses and wincing as a sense of guilt washed over him. Every time he looked at those damned flowers, every time he was in this room he couldn't help but remember a time of endless summer. The sun that had torn them apart mercilessly, the lies that had wrapped themselves around them so effortlessly… As each memory filtered back into Jack's consciousness, a new wave of guilt swept over him, threatening to drown him.

_Jack had everyone exactly where he wanted them. Ralph was captured and bound and had been abandoned in a cave until further notice. He had been made chief, officially, and there was a feast in honor of this currently. He could hear the elated screams in the night as the heat of the fire made his skin glow orange in the blackness. He could see the painted faces swimming in and out of the night… In yet, he was not happy. There was one voice that was lacking amongst the others, and Jack knew that he would not truly be happy without it._

_Jack abandoned the fireside in favor of the outskirts of the forest, where Roger lingered. Jack was quiet as he sat beside the stormy boy, gently letting a hand fall upon his shoulder. Roger had been the most affected by the capturing of Ralph, though he had concealed it well. Jack was the only one who had seemed to notice, and took note of his absence in the hunt for the feast. "Roger," he murmured, gingerly shaking his shoulder._

_"What?" Roger ground out, his voice coming out harsh and cold. Whether or not it had been his intent, Jack never knew. "What's wrong? You've been in quite a state all day." Jack pointed out bluntly, earning him a frigid glare. For a long time, Roger said nothing, sitting up and brushing the dirt off of himself. He gazed out at the world from his spot on the ground listlessly, choosing his words carefully. _

_"What is to be done with Ralph?" He asked._

_"I haven't decided yet… There's a handful that say we should just kill him, another that say we should keep him prisoner." Jack shrugged. Roger flinched. _

_"And what do __**you**__ want done with him?" Roger managed, biting his tongue harshly to keep furious words from spilling over his lips._

_"…I've no idea. There's already been so many deaths, but it would also be pointless to keep him prisoner," Jack frowned, leaning back on his hands. "…What do you want, Roger?" he murmured, already knowing the answer. The question only earned him yet another razor sharp glare._

_"I want you to let him go." Roger said quietly, looking at the ground._

_"Roger-"_

_"Let him go, Jack. You've no idea what to do with him anyway!" Roger hissed, pulling his knees to his chest roughly. Roger could hear Jack shifting about next to him, could hear the snort of exasperation, but did not look up. He did not want to see what he knew he would find… "And why would I let him go? It wasn't easy catching him, you know." Jack grumbled. Roger paused for a moment, turning his gaze to Jack with a mournful expression. "I love him." Roger said simply._

Jack shuffled forward quietly and came to stand beside Roger, gaze never leaving the flowers. Gingerly, he placed a hand on Roger's shoulder before leaning down and placing a soft kiss upon the crown of his head. Roger stiffened but said nothing, choosing to ignore Jack's affections. It was safer for the both of them that way… "It's _that_ day again… Isn't it?" Jack whispered, a distant look crossing his features. It was the anniversary of Ralph's death, a day that was observed by both occupants in the house in different ways. Roger mourned, Jack drowned in guilt, and the world went on. Jack was stirred back to life as Roger shifted, lying his arms against the desk top and hiding his face, effectively knocking Jack's hand off of his shoulder.

Jack lingered, feeling his heart throb more painfully than ever as sobs shook Roger's frame. His arms felt empty for a moment, and Jack wondered helplessly if Roger would let him comfort him just this once. Jack was quiet as he knelt down on the floor beside Roger's chair, and cautious as he gingerly wrapped his arms around him. Despite his better judgement, Roger made no move to protest, and instead allowed Jack to try and console him. Maybe it would be okay just this once... God, he was just so damn tired of being alone.

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." Jack mumbled, hanging his head guiltily. Silence met him, as it usually did, but after a while, Roger shifted and let one arm fall to wrap itself around Jack's shoulders, his cheek resting against his other arm. Roger's eyes looked sore and tired, and Jack's hearted ached as tears continued to fall, but made no movement. He didn't want to upset him further... "I'm sorry, Roger." Jack said, running through the list of all of the things that he was apologizing for in his head. There were so many, many things... He wasn't even a quarter of the way through them when Roger spoke. "I know Jack," he murmured, his tone gentle and... Forgiving. "It wasn't your fault." he continued, taking on a thoughtful expression. "They were just trying to do what they'd been told..." Roger sighed, closing his eyes for a moment.

Jack smiled grimly, wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole. "I'm sorry." Jack said, his voice barely above a whisper now. Roger opened his eyes once more as he sat up, letting Jack stay, arms wrapped around his waist. He was gentle as he let his arms wrap themselves around Jack coyly, cautiously... And for the first time in a very, very long time, Roger smiled at him and it was as if the sun had come out after years of rain.

"I know, Jack." he said gently, smiling shyly. "I forgive you."

_A/N: And dooooone!_

_Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave a review so I know how I did?_


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